Now I have someone who will fight beside me until the end.
“Then we have a chance.” I finish the sentence differently from how I started it. “We can kill the Arbiter. Destroy its crown-heart. Prove that divine authority can bleed.”
“Yes.” His agreement is simple, absolute. “But not today.”
I start to protest—the tactical advantage of striking while we’re newly evolved, before the Arbiter can adapt—but he cuts me off with a kiss.
This one is slower than before. Less desperate. The bond is complete; we have time now, more than I ever imagined having. His mouth moves against mine with unhurried attention, tasting rather than devouring.
I let myself sink into it. Let my hands explore the planes of his chest, the ridges of muscle, the scars from fights I wasn’t there to witness. Let myself have this moment of stillness in the middle of a war.
We’ve earned it.
TWENTY-FOUR
ZEPHYRA
“The stronghold is mobile.”
I speak the words into the quiet, analytical mind returning as my body calms. We’re still sprawled across the cave floor, neither of us inclined to move, but the strategic part of my brain refuses to stay quiet for long.
His hand traces lazy patterns on my spine. “The Arbiter doesn’t stay in one place.”
“We’ll need to track it. Force it to manifest fully before we can attack the crown-heart directly.”
“The Heralds’ destruction will have drawn its attention.” His voice rumbles against my shoulder. “It will come to us.”
“That’s what I’m counting on.” I prop myself up on one elbow, looking down at him. His hair is loose, spread across the stone, dark against the pale ice-light. He looks less controlled than I’ve ever seen him—still dangerous, still predatory, but unwound in ways the dragon never permitted.
I did that. The mating, the bond, the claiming—I unwound him.
The power of that knowledge settles into my bones.
“We need a strategy for engaging it directly. The Arbiter isn’t like the heralds—it won’t commit to combat unless it believes it can win decisively.”
“Then we make it believe that.” He sits up, pulling me with him so I’m settled in his lap, my back against his chest. “We use my power to create a zone where its authority fails. Your ability to expose its weaknesses.”
“And then?”
His arms tighten around me. “I tear out its crown-heart and crush it.”
The casual violence in his tone shouldn’t be attractive. It is anyway.
“That plan requires getting close enough to a divine executioner to physically rip apart its chest cavity.”
“Yes.”
“While it’s actively trying to kill us.”
“Yes.” His lips brush my ear, breath hot against my skin. “I didn’t say it was a safe plan. I said it wasourplan.”
I turn in his arms, straddling his lap to face him properly. His hands immediately find my hips, steadying me, positioning me.
“We could die.” I make myself say it. “The evolution might not be enough. The Arbiter has killed dragons before. Killed witches. Killed everyone who tried to challenge divine authority.”
“They weren’t us.”
The arrogance in his statement is breathtaking. Also accurate.
